


Extra

by igottiredofdrawing (snippets)



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: M/M, Pining, for now, hurts me to write this but not poly, short-connecting drabble series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snippets/pseuds/igottiredofdrawing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Gaillard stands in the crumbling sanctuary, watching the fight between Aichi and Kai that’ll decide the world’s future, he finally recognizes what emotion runs through him—</p><p>Envy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> ex•tra | /ˈekstrə/ :  
> supplementary, additional, leftover

Even after the debacle of sealing Aichi is over, even after things have returned to the relative normal, Gaillard wishes it _hadn’t_. 

It’s an ugly thing, a truth that was long coming, and it makes his hands fist and his heart clench. 

He misses his rings (the ones he stared at for hours, thinking he didn’t deserve them yet there they were, snug on _his_ fingers and no one else’s), misses being a Quatre Knight (a mockery of a guardian who can no longer call himself one but still, _still_ , he wants to take the role), and most importantly, misses being something to Aichi (having a purpose to him, having a reason to be there with him, having been _his_ ). 

But now, he’s nothing.

And Gaillard knows this all too well. Knows this when he looks at how Aichi looks at Kai with his kind eyes and how Kai looks at Aichi with his soft ones. Knows that he didn’t fit in their answer because he wasn’t even part of the equation.


	2. II

Gaillard doesn’t fall in love easily, but his first meeting with Aichi made him realize why other people do.

They’re sitting inside the main guest room, cushioned onto the old and well-worn chairs of the orphanage. It would be quiet if his thirty other siblings weren’t fully trying to both occupy his and his visitor’s attention. 

“Salut! Je m’a--” Alain tries to introduce himself before Gabrielle chimes in, cutting him off with her own opening. The multitude of French thrown at Aichi is extensive. 

Gaillard feels a sigh building in his throat, and he turns to Aichi, half embarrassed, almost resigned to apologize about their hyperactive behavior. Except, the words get caught in his throat, stilled from the smile grazing Aichi’s mouth. 

“They’re very friendly.” Aichi tilts his head, eyes considerate. The sunlight from the window douses him in an ethereal glow, and if Gaillard believed in angels, he would have thought he found one. 

Mouth suddenly dry, the Japanese is clumsy on Gaillard’s tongue. “Y-yes, I suppose they are.”

His love has always been for his family, but as they talked into the evening, the visage of Paris showcased behind the glass windows of the room, Gaillard thinks he could fit in another one in his heart.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lmao I finally got off my ass to finish editting this one single drabble that prevented me from posting the rest

Hating is easier than falling in love. 

He has the right angular face, framed by locks Gaillard can still remember in the dark, distant Paris of his dreams. He has the right personality, the kind that’s unyielding to consequences and makes Gaillard’s teeth clench in disgust. But he has the wrong eyes. 

For everything that Gaillard was prepared for to see in Kai’s gaze—his pain, his anger, his frustration—nothing could jar him more than the resignation.

And if he ignored the difference in eye-color, Gaillard could almost see the all-too-familiar (desperate, desperate like someone standing alone far too long, and fragile, fragile with exhaustion that it’ll never ever end) expression of having lost everything. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Because the dragon the knight came to slay was but just another boy, armor clinked and tarnished and fighting for a cause that he can’t abandon. It makes the burning inside Gaillard flare high, bursting into flame without direction and he can only let it sit hot and simmering without a proper outlet underneath his skin. 

Winning the match only leaves the feeling that he’s been cheated, not of skill but of satisfaction, of the victory he thought would taste sweeter on his tongue. And it stays as he listens to Kai burn (and he should be burned, burning with the heat that has been eating Gaillard since he watched his family disappear into the ashes of reverse), it stays as Gaillard stares at his hands, at the rings adorning his fingers, at the blue that glints from the gems. 

_Just like Aichi’s_ , Gaillard thinks, distracted. Yes, he was doing this to protect Aichi (to protect the world, to protect his family, ~~to protect himself~~ ). Any vendetta he has toward Kai is to be expected. 

But the understanding was not.


	4. IV

“Would you lend me your strength to protect this world?” 

Aichi’s voice is soft, and the seriousness blindsides Gaillard. Maybe if he was a kinder man, a stronger person (ready to take on the burden for everyone), he could reach the skies where Aichi found his resolution.

Gaillard blinks instead, mesmerized by the curve of Aichi’s lips, the steadiness in his gaze. Thinks that maybe his life was leading up to this moment. 

Of course, he knows there’s no other answer.


	5. V

_He wants this_ , Gaillard realizes, half disdainful, half bewildered, half pitying.

The blue hues of the Holy Prominence Prison fades away, and in the center lies Kai, bowed form wafting with smoke, crisp with the smell of failure.

It should have been more gratifying, slowly stripping the teen down to his knees, watching him scream his voice raw. But it served to only frustrate Gaillard.

For every fight they’ve had, Kai was no closer to winning against Gaillard. (Yet _his_ eyes showed no defeat.)

For every encounter they’ve had, Gaillard was no closer to repelling Kai. (Just like a moth to a flame, except the flame wasn’t even his, it was _Aichi’s_.)

It seemed purposeful, as if Kai intended—accepted—the cleansing pain the rings provided. Needed the reminder of hell to reach a heaven he had no right to access. He kept coming back to be burned alive at a stake that wasn’t his to claim.

It left a sour taste in his mouth.

Gaillard’s eyes are closed off as he stares down at Kai, and the words tumble out his mouth before he can stop them.

“Aichi doesn’t need _you_.”

Kai doesn’t voice anything, but the unyieldingness in his posture, the steadying gasps in his breath, the grim determination in his mouth say it all.

As Gaillard walks away, for the second (the third, the fourth) time, for some reason, he wants to laugh because the words sounded like they were for himself.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst thing about updating this is that the last one was on 4/20 and now it won't ever be

Sometimes, Kourin tells the Quatre Knights things about Aichi.

Maybe it’s after a checkover of the sanctuary, after throwing off the ‘mates’. Maybe it’s after another night, staring out toward earth, knowing they’re willing to live their life protecting someone that has sacrificed his for theirs. Mostly, she tells them when they need the little reminders the most.

And Gaillard doesn’t let any escape, swallowing each one like light to a black hole.

“We shared the same clan before,” she whispers more to herself than them. Her eyes are half-mast, and there’s a look in them that Gaillard understands all too well.

“Ehhh, something other than Gold Paladin?” Rati’s voice is muffled behind a donut. It breaks Kourin out of her trance, and she smiles a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Very close to that, actually.”

Maybe it was something she wanted to keep to herself, but for the rest of the night, Kourin doesn’t correct the suggested clans the knights give nor does she give the answer.

When they retire to their respective rooms, Gaillard finds himself staring at the white walls of the sanctuary, staring at the heavy rings on his fingers.

He thinks about Kourin with her words and her sad smiles. He thinks about Kai with his frowns and his resigned eyes. He thinks about how he keeps staring because he can’t stare at the fact that he knows nothing about Aichi except his kindness.

It all makes his stomach twist, curling slowly with a feeling Gaillard can’t place.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one for the road.

He can hear the soft gasps the rest of the knights emit as the stone pillars light up, and in the center of their respective pillar is the sign of their loyalty to Aichi.

Gaillard’s hands are careful as he picks up the rings. Gentle, as if Aichi had given them to him himself. (Which he did, Gaillard chides himself, eyes darting toward the stone throne Aichi soundly sleeps on.)

He turns them slowly, tracing the metal’s contours, memorizing the blue glint of the jewels. And Gaillard is meticulous, putting the rings on his fingers, steady and precise until they were snug near the joints.

He stares at his hands, transfixed. _Like Aichi’s eyes_ , Gaillard breathes. _Aichi’s_.

Stills for a second before smiling.

(Because that was what he was.)

 _Aichi’s_.


	8. VIII

The crack of bone is a loud echo in their ice-enclosed cage. His knuckles are bruised from the force, but the pain feels good, indescribable. Something Gaillard’s been waiting for to happen since they met.

Apparently, Kai’s been waiting for it too.

The corner between his lip and cheek is starting to swell pink, but Kai is quiet, composed with something akin to resignation, anticipation.  He didn’t even bother flinching.

It pisses Gaillard off.

Even more so as he digs crescents into the soft skin of his palms, growing deeper with the soothing (how _dare_ he) sound of Kai’s voice.

“If punching me will satisfy you, do it as much as you like.”

But that’s the thing—nothing about Toshiki Kai will ever be sufficient to ebb away the fire of Gaillard’s anger. How could it, when hearing his voice go hoarse, watching his eyes swell up, taking in his long-drawn out suffering—none of it could qualm the hate? Even now, punching the brunet is a fleeting satisfaction, a transitory thing.

Similar to the entire debacle happening this very second. Everything’s becoming a momentary experience, expiring into a future that nobody wanted. (Like the impending upheaval of Aichi’s seals, like the impending certainty of Link Joker’s return, and of course–Gaillard tries to ignore the thought that scares him the most—like the impending loss of everything he cared about.)

“It’s all your fault. All of it!”

Gaillard brings a foot closer into Kai’s direction, pressing in close with each word. His stomach is twisted up into itself ( _again)_ , the familiar pressure rearing its head as Gaillard bites out every syllable.

“Aichi took on the burden of sealing away the seed that would resurrect Link Joker.”

Gaillard is gasping with fury, his rings starting to spark with fire. The words are spilling faster from his mouth than he can help it, as if they’ve been waiting to be said for the longest time. Or perhaps, the dam he’s built to stave off his worries, his fears, has finally broken.

“None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for _you_!” Gaillard spits. Kai doesn’t comment on how the last bit sounded more like a sob.

Doesn’t comment on how little space there is left between them.

Up this close, Gaillard can see the way Kai swallows, see the way his eyes flicker with guilt, see the way his mouth is opening to say something—an apology? an excuse?—and Gaillard is having none of it.

It’s more teeth than lip, more blood than spit, but the kiss is better than hearing what Kai has to say. Naoki, who’s been all but forgotten in the background since Gaillard’s tirade started, squawks at the display.

“You’re awful,” Gaillard mumbles as he pulls away, tasting copper on his tongue.

“I know” Kai says it with certainty, self-deprecation tinting the edges. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year. 
> 
> Here's bits (being posted each day until done) I thought I had already uploaded and was definitely written MONTHS within last year so. Though this one is a bit more messy and not really thought through.
> 
> Also serragai if you squint because I obviously cannot not include it.

He’s made it no secret that he can’t help but stare at his rings at least three times a day.

The other knights have waved it off, used to the obsessive attention to detail Gaillard has with anything to do with Aichi Sendou.

So it’s surprising when a smooth voice drifts behind him, startling the knight.

“Does it ever get boring?”

Gaillard turns around to see Serra tower above his sitting form, watching him turn the rings on his fingers. His tone is disinterested, but the focus his eyes track his movement say otherwise. It makes Gaillard pause, curious that out of all the knights he would ask him this question.

(But it doesn’t bother him at all because it should have been obvious.)

It's a thought that makes Gaillard's back straighten, makes him tilt his head upward, and once his eyes meet Serra's back unflinchingly, his mouth parts open without thought, his words tumbling out like a rehearsed and cherished oath. It's filled with confidence—reverence, Serra notes— when the answer is finally given.

“Of course not. We’ve inherited Aichi’s will, and this is its physical manifestation.”

Serra gives him a thoughtful look, face frozen in frigid politeness, and his eyes (careful, and always so, so watchful) blink, digesting his words before offering his own.

“Is that why you were muttering—what was it," Serra taps a finger against his chin, his eyes catching Gaillard's own briefly, "—Kai’s name under your breath?”

Gaillard's reaction is immediate: "Of course n-"

But the knight feels his breath stutter, his words stumble as Serra's eyes (watching the way his throat swallows, watching the way his eyes flicker, always watching) pin him down like a butterfly. It's such a preposterous idea but still, Gaillard feels his cheeks heat up in indignation for being exposed for something that shouldn't have felt like it should have been a secret. Still, he can feel the flush spreading all the way to his ears.

But before he can try again, choking up to excuse himself, to explain that his preoccupation with Kai has nothing to do with the teen but Aichi himself, Serra holds up his hand, and dips his gaze in understanding.

“The mates—,” Serra chews the word carefully (carefully and precisely like the way his eyes take in everything), “— are a nuisance. Especially him.”

And suddenly, Gaillard feels the distance he thinks about between him and the stone throne Aichi sleeps on, about the long stretch of stars and space and light years in between, and how he can't ever hope to cross it.

(But _he_ has.)

It's like watching a marionette's strings be cut, the way Gaillard's form suddenly lose their rigidity, the way the exhaustion flits through his eyes but creeps into his bones and  _stays_. It's as if he’s been waiting for someone else to speak up on the mates (on  _him_ ) because he was too unwilling to give them more of his words despite them taking his thoughts.

Softly, and almost bitterly, Gaillard admits, “They don’t know when to quit.”

Serra’s eyes track the pinch in between Gaillard’s eyebrows, the way his fingers have curled loosely into fists. He’s silent for a bit, but then he opens his mouth, quirking it upwards as if he found the situation hilarious. “You don’t know either.”

It’s said lightly, but Gaillard can't see anything funny past the memories of brunets with teal eyes (staring back defiant even under judgement's pain, softening at the mention of his king's name, and shaking so intensely with experiences for someone Gaillard knows he will never _ever_ have). 

No, Gaillard cannot find any humor, especially when he's put as the butt of a joke he wasn’t even privy to.

Instead, all he has are the stirrings of his anger, called forth like a comforting blanket over his shoulders, and that same familiar twisting in his stomach, leaving an ache in his heart. 

"How is that so?" Gaillard's words are clipped, frustration beginning to crackle underneath his tone. 

“Every mention of the mates and you’ve come running to lead the battle.” Serra’s not even looking at Gaillard as he says this, face suddenly devoid of any mirth, body posed in a half-shrug to placate. His words are conversational, as if he was just reiterating facts. Maybe he was.

“Ah—that isn’t a bad thing,” Serra suddenly looks up, capturing Gaillard's gaze as the other knight finally stands, about to retort.  He pauses before his mouth forms a sardonic smile. “You’re better at keeping them at bay.”

(Better at protecting Aichi than us all, goes unsaid.)

And just like that, Serra steps back behind a pillar, disappearing into the shadows of the Sanctuary. 


	10. Chapter 10

Everything’s falling apart and Gaillard is watching it all.

Aichi’s white palace ripples underneath their feet with cracks, and between Gaillard’s boots, he can see where the stars hide. He wants to stop the shaking, but even his knees feel wobbly, bent at the wrong angles from being played puppet to a traitor’s strings. All around, the crystal fissures fence them in like overgrown weeds.

And at the eye of this storm, lies Aichi, soon to be awakened.

His ears are ringing, and his eyes are burning, and Gaillard suddenly feels like he’s back in France, ground coming up as he slowly gives himself bit by bit to reverse—finds himself backed in a corner, nowhere to move.

_Checkmate._

They’ve exhausted all their options, and it’s staring in their face as Serra makes his way towards the stone throne, the ice reflecting his smugness across its surface.

And as Kourin is screaming behind her cage, the mates struggling with their own frigid trap, Gaillard is suffocating. _I should be able to do something more_ , he thinks numbly, following the ex-Quatre Knight’s form. But even twitching his fingers feel like fire, shifting his legs feel like pain. His rings feel heavy, and trying to focus the will to spark them is difficult.

Serra’s an arm distance away from reaching Aichi, when he hears it— clear and roaring, the sound reverberating through his core—  

_Gaillard._

His spine stiffens, and his limbs ache, but Kai’s voice lights something inside him (always burning with that twisted up feeling, always there even as he thinks about Aichi). Reminds him, as he meets the brunet’s unwavering eyes—darkened and bruised around the edges—you can change your mistakes.

And suddenly, Gaillard can taste the heat, feel the wisp caress of flames, smell the charcoal smoke. Everything still hurts, but as he lifts his hands, he can feel his rings blaze.


	11. Chapter 11

Gaillard knows he’ll stop hating Kai once he stops loving Aichi.

It’s an unbidden thought, a reminder of why he’s nursing a bruise on his knuckle while running through the broken hallways of the sanctuary, the moon shaking beneath their feet in groans.

There’s still electricity in the air, thick with tension even after they’ve been rescued through Ren and Leon’s interference. And it persists now, a static undercurrent ready to spark any second with unpredictable consequences—unexpected—like the Observers’ presence.

It makes it difficult for Gaillard to not think about the way his mouth throbs. 

As if registering his thoughts, Ren’s soft lilt drifts into his hearing range, deceptively teasing.

“Hmmm, did we miss something?”

The redhead’s mouth is quirked, face pointed in Kai’s direction, but his eyes are sharp, staring coolly towards Gaillard.

Unknowingly, Gaillard licks his lips, feeling the grooves of another’s teeth on them, recalling the sharp but not-so-unpleasant press of someone else's bite. He can still feel the scorch of Kai's breath, his presence suffocatingly close and intimate. A mockery of a kiss.

And even when he should know better, Gaillard thinks—with unbecoming shame, with desperation he will never admit to, and with such, such longing—because Kai’s been with _him_ , it’s almost like kissing Aichi.

Almost _._

To Ren’s response, Kai doesn’t bother saying anything, even as the swelling on his face and the careful flexing Gaillard handles his hand give it all away.

“It doesn’t concern you,” Gaillard’s voice is sudden, a bit gravelly around the edges, the words stolen from the lodge in his throat.

The redhead makes a noncommittal noise, reaction rehearsed as if he was following a script he's long known the ending to, and continues his long-legged jog, pace leisure even when the world is falling apart.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he sing-songs. But his eyes are still pointed, and if they shined with something bright when Gaillard glanced at them for a second, it was probably a trick of the light.


	12. Chapter 12

He’s going to lose.

It wasn’t the fact Gaillard had a legion to contend with using his five card hand, full with the wrong cards to make a difference. Nor was it the fact that his field has been obliterated, reduced in numbers from one, two, three—and Gaillard can still see it, the way Kai’s eyes shined, how they were merciless—attacks.

No, Gaillard could tell that instinctively, just like when Aichi walked into the orphanage that particular day, that it was fate.

Fate for him to meet Aichi. Fate for him to be his knight.

Fate for him to be against Kai. Fate for him to fight him.

And fate for Gaillard to lose to him when it matters the most.

Gaillard wants to be angry (hot and bright and never ending) but he’s been angry for far too long, longer than he’s been in the orphanage, (longer than he’s been since his family burned out of his life) and like a candle flickering out, all he can feel now is tiredness.

So he looks towards Aichi, let’s his eyes trace his King’s shadowed profile, and tries to not feel disappointment because Gaillard _knew_ Aichi’s eyes wouldn’t be locked onto him.

(Never on him.)

Instead, he brings his gaze back to Kai (because that’s all he has, all the scraps of Aichi that can be shared with him, even if stolen in violence) as the brunet begins his second attack. Watches as his death sentence is given.

“Dragonic Overlord the Great restands!”

And if Kai’s eyes are kind—understanding—when he gives the final attack, Gaillard thinks maybe, just maybe, if he didn’t hate the brunet as much as he did, he probably would thank him.


End file.
